


Fade

by NightmareLane



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Blood, Blood As Paint, Chucklevoodoos, Graphic Description, Insanity, M/M, Marked For Later Chapters, Neglect, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Sober Gamzee Makara, Sopor Slime, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 06:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14099214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareLane/pseuds/NightmareLane
Summary: Your name is Karkat Vantas and it's difficult to hold onto your sanity when your moirail can't decide if he wants you dead or wants in your pants. The severed heads he keeps for company and/or decoration aren't helping, so if they could fuck off, you'd really appreciate it, thanks.[Rewrite of the 2013 work Flee. Some tags are for later chapters, some are updated as chapters are released.]





	Fade

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Flee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/954381) by [NightmareLane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareLane/pseuds/NightmareLane). 



> Well, that work was sitting for three fucking years, it's about time I got my shit together and did something. Hopefully I actually finish it this time. I couldn't stand the writing style I had going on there tbh- about time I fixed some of it. Hope I kept some of the original flavour while correcting the not-so-great bits happening in there. Feedback is always lovely (especially since this has no beta reader), comments are greatly appreciated. Hope y'all enjoy!

Once upon a fuckin’ time, there was a meteor. A pretty shitty meteor, to be fair, desolate as shit and somehow chaotic all at once with twelve goddamn trolls shoved onto it, but that’s just how it was and sometimes a guy had to work with the hand he was dealt. Some days were better than others, to be expected.

Your name is Karkat Vantas. You were one of those twelve trolls stuck on the meteor. Currently, you are terrified.

Your happy(ha!) little band of twelve has shrunk considerably, much to your chagrin. You were supposed to lead them and keep them safe, what a great job you did with that one, A+ and extra credit given. After all, you’re the one that couldn’t manage to keep your best friend and palemate grounded and sober, sane enough to _not_ pirouette off the fucking handle. Whoops, now everyone is dead and it’s pretty much your fault. Well done, Vantas.

Looking back, you realise you should have known. He had, after all, been twitchier than usual lately, the pie pans not so prevalent in your rooms, your piles. Fuck, he’d tried to come to you for help, to keep things from getting to this point. But no, all you did was give a pap on the head and keep on with your work. God, why did you have to be such an idiot?

Absolutely prepared to chastise yourself once more, a smudge of brown caught your attention. One of Gamzee’s little smiley faces painted on the wall in-- shit, was that blood? Your nose crinkled in disgust and it was all you could do to keep from gagging, your imagination providing a helpful image of your closest friend shoving his hand into Tavros’ guts and painting up the face on the wall before dragging the body away.

A tremble ran down your spine as, in that moment, you realise he knew where you were. He always did, why wouldn’t he? He knew the meteor better than you could ever hope to. It was a mistake to try and take a break, stop running, and it was going to kill you. Faintly, you thought you could hear his honks in the distance, steadily coming closer. Was it even worth running again? He’d just keep chasing, inexhaustible, a fucking predator with endless stamina and you were the exhausted hopbeast with no burrow to hide in.

By the time you managed to make up your mind, the honking stopped. That wasn’t great, no sir, you didn’t like that one bit. Meant he was close, too close, and you needed to get the fuck out of dodge. You took a breath and turned, paranoid, to scan the room once more--

There he was. Just- just standing there, slouching as if nothing had changed, a tired smile on his face and his greasy hair falling in matted clumps around his face. Even knowing everything he’d done, that palesick part of you still wanted to curl up around him and comb the tangles out of his hair, clean it until those so-soft ringlets emerged to frame his sharp features all over again. As it should have fucking been.

Really, Gamzee didn’t even didn’t look all that different. His paint was smeared, sure, the edges worn away with sweat and grime, with three deep gashes sluggishly dripping indigo interrupting his features. His clothes somehow seemed even baggier on him, smeared with a rainbow of blood and fuck you didn’t want to think about where it came from. The shoe protest was still in progress, polka-dot canvases discarded in favour of bare feet, and you sighed. Under the mess was still Gamzee, your Gamzee, the palest diamond you’d ever known and he was a fucking murderer.

“H-hey there, Karbro.” His voice wobbled, a rasp in it that had never been present before. You never thought you’d hear it without all of its usual enthusiasm, the wrigglerish wonder drained, and you’re pretty sure you hate it.

You couldn’t fight him. He was bigger than you, and this close, he’d probably catch you too easily. Besides, you knew him too well, you cared too much to ever want to hurt him. A wry smile, faint and resigned, found its way onto your face. Not much you could do here, was there?

“Hello, Gamzee. I’ve missed you.”

It was clear you’d taken him by surprise, by the way his tired expression morphed into one of surprise. The raised eyebrows made one of those slashes bleed anew, right into his eye, and you wanted to reach out and slap some bandages on it to make it better. Eugh. Pale feelings, fuck off, now was the worst time.

“You all up an’ missed me, little motherfucker?”

“Yeah. I did. I mean, why wouldn’t I, shit-for-brains?” Internally, you cringed at immediately jumping into the familiar old insults. That was probably the worst thing you could have done. But shit, you’re stalling, you’ve gotta come up with a plan here. It’s not like you wanted to die, after all, if it was so easy to surprise him maybe you could make a break for it by playing the right cards.

“Hm.” A soft huff of air slid from him and he shrugged. “Here I thought you’d be full of all kinds of wicked hate, brother. I did kill just about everyone.” Gamee’s voice strained a moment as if struggling with himself, a wobble that betrayed he wasn’t quite as calm as he tried to seem. A broken grin split his features and he slumped again, shrugging. “Went and used their insides as the miraculous colours to transcribe the righteous motherfuckin messages of the high messiahs. Shit, Karkat, I even fuckin’ _enjoyed_ killin’ them all. No kind of rush like it, y’know?”

He looked so eager, excited about _murder_ of all things, and it took everything in you to keep from flinching. A plan, flawed as hell but at least present, was formulating. It was next to nothing, it probably wasn’t going to work. “It’s not like that, assclown. I mean, c’mon, it’s not like just because you’ve managed to hop off the deep end you’re some brand-new fucker that I’ve never met before. Get real, and get over yourself.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and taking a half-step back, arms crossed protectively across your chest. “I mean, come the fuck on, sir god complex. The actual Makara’s in there, and I know that with how fucked-up this whole situation is he’d be pretty fuckin’ livid to find out any version of himself pulled a stunt like this.”

“But--” His eyebrows furrowed and you could tell he’d lost you a hot minute ago. Good.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You know exactly how I feel about being interrupted.” Gamzee’s mouth snapped shut and, stubbornly, you straightened up that much further. “Good. Now. With all that I hate the shit you’ve done with a passion that transcends the understanding nodules contained in most troll’s thinkpans, I don’t hate the actual Gamzee Makara. The important thing here is that I also don’t plan on standing around and dying, either, so while I’d love to stay and have a whole feelings jam on this subject I’d much rather live so I’m going to go now. See you preferably never.”

You didn’t stay long enough to see how he reacted to your sudden change in topic, instead turning on your heel and skedaddling right the fuck out of there before he could stop you. Turns in the hallways were taken at random, left right left left right left and it felt like you were going in circles but you didn’t have much choice seeing as you didn’t know where you were headed, all you knew was that you didn’t dare look back.

The clown’s cursing was a distant sound to accompany your flight and you stumbled, gasped, caught yourself. No, you had to keep running. There was a split in the hallway ahead, only a second to make a decision, and you careened around one corner. You damn near hit the wall with the speed you were sprinting at, skidding to try and keep from that embarrassment, and of all the fucking great things to happen your ankle decided to pull itself off to an angle it definitely wasn’t supposed to be at.

Fuck, you didn’t have time for this! A snarl slid from you and you moved to break into a sprint--

Huh. The floor on this portion of the meteor was in desperate need of a cleaning. Granted, all of the meteor needed proper sanitation after this mess, but. Yikes. Your vision swam and, distantly, you could feel your throat burning from what must have been some kind of awful loud noise you made when you went down. Yeah, that ankle was broken as shit, or sprained, or whatever, the fucker hurt and like a bitch and you really needed to get the fuck up before something nasty happened.

Or, well, no, little late for that if the unsteady footsteps were anything to go by. They were awful close. It felt like slow motion as you dragged your gaze up, tried to drag your own self up, those bare feet (his toes were still painted in all different colours from your last feelings jam and fuck if that didn’t hurt your heart somehow, someway) shuffling around that corner of betrayal. He was so tall, so fucking tall, and usually that was comforting but now he loomed over you and you couldn’t fucking _breathe_ with the fear.

Instinctively, you scrambled back, some crude imitation of a crabwalk, gritting your teeth against the pain of your fucked-up ankle. There was no way you dared look at his face, but one foot was planted right in the center of your chest and _shoved_ down until you couldn’t keep yourself up anymore.

For a moment, it felt like he was trying to crush the air out of your lungs, and when he finally let up you couldn’t do much but gasp and cough. It was enough of a chance for him to plop his bony ass down on your stomach and you didn’t have much of a choice in looking at his face now, his expression devoid of anything at all and _fuck_ if that didn’t scare you. Your hands rose to try and shove him off and he just grabbed them as if you were a squalling wriggler throwing a tantrum and fuck if this wasn’t one of the worst plans you had ever come up with in your entire life.

“Oh, punchline-blooded motherfucker, you’re gonna regret all of that.” He murmured, so soft and gentle, before twisting your wrists so the bones shattered.

You screamed. You screamed and Gamzee laughed, saying something about pouring mirthful sounds out of squawkblisters, words that kind of but don’t quite register because he’d grabbed your other hand and you were so afraid he was going to break that one, too. Maybe if you just do what he wants he won’t make it so bad. Just this once.

But he’s so gentle, those long fingers tracing over the lines in your palm just like he used to back when he got super into palm reading. He never would tell you what sort of fortunes your hands held, but he always patiently caressed them just like this and smiled so contently. Painted lips pressed against the very center of your palm and your whimpers finally died down as you relaxed faintly, sure it had to be over if he was being so sweet to you now.

His other hand slid up your forearm, feather-light as he traced your veins and finally curled around your elbow. You almost didn’t notice the way he shifted until it was too late and his hands tightened from feathers to vices, bringing your forearm down across his knee and snapping it like a fucking twig. It took a moment for anything to register, a choked-off shout leaving along with the goddamn waterworks as the pain hits. Of course you just _had_ to cry, and of course Gamzee looked _so_ pleased with himself, a smile on his face and juggling pins in his hands.

Somehow, you felt as if you should have found some way to beg for your life, pull the moirail card, something, but all of the proper arguments were coming up blank as he set one pin down long enough to brush away your tears. All you could manage was a quite frankly pathetic little mumble of “please” before he pulled his hand back and brought the stupid fucking juggling pin up. If you woke up, you had an awful feeling it would be with a lot more broken bones than previously anticipated.

You’d never been more happy to pass out in your entire life.


End file.
